She shook her head in his hands, and he let them fall away. “No, he has never laid a hand on me, nor been so…insistent with his advances.” Her amber eyes flitted back and forth between his. “How much did you witness, Ash?”
The entire fucking brutal scene. God, if he hadn’t been all the way at the other end of the library, he would have intervened earlier. But bloody hell, Ash had to witness his son grope her while he stormed across the room. Damn monstrous castles. “I had been in the library before either of you entered.”
A sad smile flickered across her lips. “I suppose you see now why I was so desperate to escape the betrothal.”
He dipped his chin. “I had no idea, Felicity.” His tone was hoarse, as if his vocal cords felt the same pain he did. “Colborn wasn’t lying when he said I’ve been an absent father. The only times I see him are when he comes home to see Pandora, and he is nothing like the man I just witnessed.
“I know from the gossip columns of his indiscretions, and I’ve paid off a good many creditors. But I thought I could straighten him out and then he would be a husband more worthy of you. I had no idea the extent of his devalue of you, of his disgusting treatment of you.” He paused, struggled to swallow. “I had no idea he would everharmyou.”
She nibbled on her lip, and he swore he could see her thoughts flitting across her fiery brown irises.
“I-I don’t think he would ever harm me, Ash. Not intentionally, at least.” She paused, studying the floor. Her lips turned down, and then she said under her breath, “Though now I’m not so sure he wouldn’t have forced me to bed him.”
His gut tightened to excruciating levels. Dear God.
She shook her head and met his gaze. “What you witnessed back there was a child having a tantrum. And yes, sometimes that is where it starts, and it only escalates from there. But I don’t think that is the case with Colborn. He has always acted like a child who had a shiny new trinket taken from him whenever I’ve denied him anything. I think it might be because I’m the only person who ever has denied him anything.”
Guilt coated the inside of his lungs, chalky and suffocating, making it hard to breathe. Felicity’s words were the brutal truth. Ash was responsible.
“No doubt you’re correct. Children scream, stomp their feet, flail, and sometimes hurt others when they throw a fit. But he’s five-and-twenty. That kind of behavior in a young man—that becomes dangerous.”
He scrubbed his hands down his face. “And that’s not even considering the rest of his behavior, all the reckless things he does that land him in the scandal sheets. And it has only gotten worse over the years. The number of times I’ve had to pull my rank and connections to get him out of trouble… The amount of coin I have shelled out to cuckolded husbands threatening to sue and charge Colborn with criminal conversation, dragging our name so publicly through the mud… The sum is astounding. I had thought he would mature, eventually. Instead, I have created the beginnings of a monster.”
Like father like son, another Fenrir, another Norse beast.
Felicity stepped up to him and wrapped her arms around his back, resting her cheek against his chest. He deflated against her, around her, settling his chin on her auburn tresses. He was careful to keep his hands on her hips and away from the center of her back.
She gave him a light squeeze and then said, “Have you ever considered, Ash, that your son might be acting out to gain your attention, that these are acts of desperation from a boy who never had a mother nor father?”
Her words sliced through him, and he buried his nose in her hair, pulling her closer, digging his fingers into her hips. His failing his son had never been more apparent than it was now.
“I don’t think he needs you to make his problems disappear. I think he might just needyou.”
“I’m not so sure he thinks that right now.”
He leaned back slightly until they could face each other, and she tilted her head back to look up at him. Loose amber tresses framed her face, falling from her messy chignon. Her large amber eyes glowed with kindness, and a smile peeked out from her soft pink lips. She stole his breath. Every. Bloody. Time.
“I suppose I should go speak with him. Though, I find I’m loath to leave you.”
She rose onto tiptoes and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. And for that brief moment, everything, every problem, faded away, as though her lips were some sort of sorcery.
“I think I’d like to lie down for a bit, anyway,” she said.
He blinked at her. Yes, because that was a deterrent.
“You lying in a bed doesn’t make me any less inclined to leave you.” It just made him want to join her, wrap himself around her.
Her lips split into a grin and, despite the events of the past hour, his broke out in kind. He ran his hand over her neck, sliding his fingers into her chignon and cradled the back of her head. He brushed his nose over hers and then rested his forehead against hers. He closed his eyes and stood with her just like that, doing nothing more than sharing breaths with her.
He didn’t know how long they stood there like that, but it was long enough for him to breathe her so deeply into his being he knew he’d never be completely free of her. And that was exactly what he wanted. Because even if she wasn’t for his son any longer, she would go off and marry some other young gentleman. But at least he’d still have a piece of her stored inside himself. Just as she would always have his heart.
He stepped back, letting his fingers trail away. “May I take a look at your injury before I go? Would you like me to call for a doctor?”
She shook her head, tresses lightly flying around her porcelain cheeks. “No doctor. I am sure it’ll leave me with a nasty bruise, is all. I’ve endured much worse from the scrapes I used to get in with my brothers. I think I just need a little rest with some ice on the spot, and I’ll be just fine.”
“I’ll be sure to have a maid sent up with ice for you.”
He tried to fight the urge to grind his teeth again at the knowledge that his son was responsible for this injury, but he mustn’t have hidden it well enough.
